


A Tale of Infatuation, Pretend Romance and Comic Loving Villains

by ConsultingGoldfish



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingGoldfish/pseuds/ConsultingGoldfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q officially despised his job. No scratch that; he was willing to go as far as saying that he bloody hated it! As the head of Q Branch, one might assume that his job consisted of making refuge in MI6's research and development division, and surrounding himself with fancy, high-tech pieces of equipment all day long. In fact, Q was also foolish enough to make such an assumption...</p><p>He was so wrong...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Akihia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akihia/gifts).



> I have been writing this since the movie came out! Thanks to my sister, constantly nagging me, I finally finished it (even though I continuously complain about how terrible it is). This ones for you, Akihia! Sorry if it fails to make sense.

Q officially despised his job. No scratch that; he was willing to go as far as saying that he bloody _hated_ it! As the head of Q Branch, one might assume that his job consisted of making refuge in MI6's research and development division, and surrounding himself with fancy, high-tech pieces of equipment all day long. In fact, Q was also foolish enough to make such an assumption...

He was so wrong...

It all started several days ago when 007 received a new mission based in the United States and was ordered not to go alone – something to do with his ability to constantly find new, intuitive ways to “cock stuff up”.

No, actually. It really started months when Q discretely met the great James Bond for the first time in a public museum, introducing himself as the agents new brilliant Quartermaster.

Or perhaps, to be precise, it really stated even further back, when Q was hired to work for the secret service!

Either way, no matter how this story _truly_ began,lets just start by explaining how Q was unexpectedly forced into field work one unfortunate day at the office...

\----- 00Q -----

“Q!” Gareth Mallory called in a tone of voice that screamed 'strictly-business', as he marched into Q-Branch one morning. Wait, was it even morning? Q wasn't sure. You kind of loose track of time when you have been working underground for hours on end, “Would you mind keeping an eye on Bond for me while he's in San Diego next week?”

“Don't worry Sir, I always do,” Q replied, thinking back on all of the times he has sat staring at screens for the agent, talking into his ear and lending him advanced equipment that is never returned in one piece – that bastard!

“I mean in person. I have arranged for you to go with him on his next mission.”

Q looked up from his screen and pushed his glasses further up his nose, “You want me to be his baby sitter?” 

“To put it bluntly: yes. Although he may be one of our finest agents, he needs someone to prevent him from getting himself and/or hundreds of civilians killed. I also firmly believe it might prove easier to help him complete his mission if you are actually there, rather than in here.”

Q desperately wanted to persuade M to find someone else to assist the double-0 agent. Why did it have to be him? Couldn't he have asked someone else to go? Moneypenny, for example, was always rambling on about how much she missed being out on the field! Not that he had anything against field work, he just didn't want to be a part of it! Besides, no one had ever ever had an issues with him completing all of his work from on laptop in the middle London! Heck, he would do his job from his bedroom if he was allowed to!

Unfortunately arguing with the head of MI6 would have been fruitless and, desperate to keep his job, Q accepted M's request. It wasn't like he had much of a choice...

\----- 00Q ----- 

Q's leg bounced nervously as he sat in Heathrow airport, anxiously awaiting his 3 o'clock flight. Butterflies swarmed around his gut, making him feel positively sick. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself from the torture he was about to endure, he couldn’t stop worrying. Especially when the guy on the tannoy just _had_ to continuously remind him about the different flights that had either just arrived, were running late or were surprisingly on time. Why do they even need to tell you when flights are _on time_ anyway?!

“Q?” Bond snapped his fingers in front of the Quartermasters face, dragging him out of his head and back into the reality of what was happening.

Q scowled, tightly clenching his passport and plane ticket as if they were his only source of gravity! “I don't think I can do this 007,” he confessed, “I don't usually back down from a challenge, but this is just pure torture! What was M thinking? No, he probably wasn't thinking. Either that or he just doesn't care. How is this even fair!” 

Bond smiled at his colleges nervous ramble, “You're ridiculously smart Q. Aren't you supposed to be sat there saying that more accidents happen on the road, as opposed to in mid-flight? Or that the chances of the plane going down are a million:1?”

“Just because I know how to use the Neocortex of my brain, 007, does not mean I am immune to human fears. I am not a robot,” Q argued, staring at an uninteresting discolouration on the floor, in a hopeless attempt to distract himself from his surroundings. So what if he had a fear of flying? It was hardly a rare phobia, “Besides, given our jobs, how am I to know that we aren't boarding an aircraft alongside some creepy terrorist with evil plans?

“Don't worry, there are no terrorists on this flight. You should know that Q, you did a background check on every passenger. Remember?” Bond chuckled and held out a paper cup containing a watery-brown liquid that was, apparently, supposed to be tea. Q shoved his flight details into his pocket and held the cup between his hands, finding the hot liquid oddly soothing.

“I am still positive that the moustached man from Midsomer is a little shady.”

Bond snorted, not quiet latching onto Q's TV reference and began rummaging though a small paper bag, as if he had forgotten all about it until now. Suddenly he pulled out a round stress ball with strange blue hair and placed it on Q's knee. The brunette stared at the object in confusion and attempted to process what on earth was staring back at him with two black, beady eyes and an odd, dopey grin. His lips curved upwards when realisation hit him and Bond merely winked, “When we get on the plane, just pretend it's M.”

Q nodded and took a sip of his tea, before frowning, “I still don't want to board this stupid plane though. And for the record, this tea tastes like shit.”

\----- 00Q -----

When it _finally_ arrived, the pair soon found themselves taking their seats at the back of their flight. To Q's relief, Bond had been seated near the window and he had been placed on the seat beside him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to cope with a window seat!

He took a glance around the airline once he was seated and felt his gut begin to swim again. The sight of so many people preparing for lift off made him queasy. He considered making a run for it before it was too late. After all, he could hardly escape when they were in mid air, could he? And parachuting out of a moving aeroplane didn't sound like much fun...

007 must have been a mind reader, because as soon as the thought of escaping entered Q's head, he instantly reached across and took his hand between his own. The fact that Bond was trying to comfort Q, rather than trying to stop him from running away, helped him settle down quickly. He suddenly felt safe and secure beside the agent.

A couple of minutes later, an air hostess began making her way down the aisles between the passengers and Q was able to obtain a pair of earplugs. He put them in almost as quickly as he had grabbed them, and was instantly able to drown out the rest of the world. Once he had finally managed to get into a comfortable position, he closed his eyes and before he knew it he was drifting off to sleep. He didn't even feel the plane take off!

The next he remembered was waking up to the sound of the plane landing and the passengers rushing to get off as fast as they possibly could. It was as if the aircraft was about to blow up. He mumbled sleepily and slowly opened his eyes to the world around him – that's when realisation hit him and he became aware of his situation. Stunned, he bolted upright and speedily scanned the area to ensure that no one had just witnessed his moment of panic. Surprisingly, it wasn't the aeroplane or the fact that he had slept though an entire 7 hour flight that shocked him; it was the fact that his head was resting on Bond's shoulder and they were still holding hands! How long had they been like that for. 

“Welcome back to the world,” Bond teased and stood to collect their luggage from the overhead storage compartment. Q took a moment to compose himself before getting up, as he didn't want to make himself feel light-headed by rushing to his feet. He was also struggling to get over the fact that he had slept for so long; especially since he suffers from an acute case of insomnia! His aerophobia must have seriously knocked him out...

“Do you gentlemen need any help?” questioned a beautiful air hostess, who had (according to Q) appeared out of no where.

The pair looked around the plane and soon realised that they were the only two people still on board. Bond smiled and shook his head, “No thank you. My friend here is just a little nauseous from the flight. Sorry.”

The woman smiled sweetly and sympathetically nodded her head at Q, “That's quiet all right. Please take care Sir.”

With that she was gone and Bond was hauling Q to his feet, “We had better go and sort out our accommodation before she comes back and throws us off board.”

\----- 00Q -----

“Hello,” Bond put on his most charming smile as he approached the receptionist of a 5 star hotel in the middle of San Diego, “We have a room reserved under the name of Holmes.”

“Holmes?” The female receptionist repeated, looking between the two handsome gentlemen stood before her with a twinkle in her eye. She grinned widely when she had tapped the fake alias into her computer, as if her results were the most amusing thing in the world. Once she had found them, she reached out to hand Bond a small key with a large tag attached and chimed, “Here you are Sir. Will you be needing anything else?”

“I think we will be all right, thank you,” Bond nodded in acknowledgement and looked back at Q.

“Very well,” she smiled, “You're room is on the top floor – just take the elevator up and it will be marked quiet clearly. The restaurant starts serving dinner at 5 o'clock and breakfast will be served at 6 AM. Room service will also be available 24/7. I hope you both enjoy your honeymoon!”

Wait, rewind. Did she just say _honeymoon?_ Q's eyes instantly grew wide and his mouth began opening and closing rapidly as he struggled to form words – making him look like some sort of guppy. He was about to question the receptionist and attempt to deny any attachments between himself and Bond, when the said agent suddenly grabbed his hand and replied with, “Thank you. We will.”

Q almost tripped over his own feet when 007 began leading him towards the elevator. He could feel the receptionists gaze on the back of his neck as they both stumbled away with their luggage in tow. Once they were safe inside the lift, Q turned to Bond and exploded, “What the actual fuck? Why didn't you tell her that there has been some mistake? Or at lest deny that we are on our _honeymoon_!”

Bond rolled his eyes, “Firstly, a single wrong move could blow our cover. Secondly, the only mistake this hotel made, was allowing _you_ to book our room! It's not my fault you reserved the _honeymoon suit!_ I just assumed that you had a reason for it!”

“But I didn't book our room, Bond! I was too busy preparing everything else for this god forsaken trip!” Q argued as they stepped out of the spacious, golden lift and began to follow the signs that pointed towards their suit.

007 paused in front of their door, “Then who prepared out accommodation?”

“Eve,” Q frowned, “I asked her to book us two single rooms under the same name, in a high class hotel. She warned me that she had only been able to score one room between the both of us, but I was certainly not expecting _this!"_

When Bond was finally able to unlock the door to their room, Q found himself at a loss for words. It was absolutely enormous! Various furnishings lined almost ever inch of the room: in one corner, for example, sat a 52” flat screen TV, facing a suede three piece suite and beach coffee table. What really caught Q's attention, however, was the massive California king bed, in the middle of the room. It was covered in so many sheets! Way too many. How many sheets did one bed need, anyway? And were those _heart_ -shaped candies littering the pillows?

Eve was definitely going to receive an earful before the day was over. Q didn't even care if she was 5 hours in front of them! She had assured him that there would at least be separate beds and privacy! What sort of sick, twisted game was she playing?

“Perhaps we should have just got a cheap motel room somewhere on the outskirts of town or something,” Q mused, suddenly regretting every decision he had ever made in his life.

Bond lifted their suitcases and placed them in the corner of the room – not far from the seemingly cheesy bed. He eyed the piece of furniture cautiously, before turning to Q and admitting, “I honestly don't think that would suit you. Besides it's no use arguing about it now.”

\----- 00Q ----- 

Little over an hour later, Q had successfully made himself at home; having practically unpacked and set up the entirety of Q-Branch in their hotel suite! Bond watched with mild amusement as the younger man scurried around the room, laying claiming to every single wall socket in slight and clumsily tripping over his wires on several occasions. How on Earth one man managed to pack to much _and_ get away with transporting it all from England, James would never fathom. While women take half a dozen suitcases full of clothes on holiday, Q has packs a dozen suitcases full computers! Not that this was a holiday...

Nor was Q a woman...

While Q was busy setting up his equipment, Bond decided to throw himself onto the massive Californian bed and contemplate their current mission...

A couple of weeks ago Q and his minions down at Q-Branch discovered that someone within the division had successfully broke into their systems and created a copy of MI6's security codes!

Completely stunned, the entire agency spent hours trying to track down who had betrayed them from the inside. The stolen security codes were (and still are) some of the most important information in Britain! In the wrong hands, they could be used to bring down the entire country! 

How had a single person managed to slither about under the nose of hundreds of people?

“This moron evidently isn't a world class mastermind,” Q had boasted, after figuring out which computer had been used to hack into MI6's database. All he had to do was log into the system and flick trough their history in order to discover exactly what he was looking for. Apparently their not-so-unknown perpetrator planned to trade their security codes with a mysterious third party at an unconfirmed public event in San Diego within the next couple of days.

Much to Q's despair he hadn't been able to single handedly solve the case within a matter of hours, however, he _had_ managed to figure out whom one of the criminals was! The man, who's identity could not be disclosed, was arrested and placed in a high security cell until the case was closed. It could have been a simple case of security breech, if it wasn't for the fact that all stolen information had been given to a messenger before the mole was arrested.

Bond was the only field agent free at the time and thus ordered to rush to America to save the country from total ruin – plus, although no one liked to admit it, he is the best agent in England.

“007!” Q called, breaking Bond's train of thoughts and snapping him back into reality, “I said: I have had a message from Q-Branch! They think they have figured out where our mysterious friend is planning to commit their act of terrorism.”

“Where?” Bond questioned, hovering over the Quartermaster's shoulders.

Q clicked on a strange hyper-link that had been attached to his email and a new website suddenly appeared. Silence hung in the air as the pair tried to processes what they were seeing – not quite sure whether to believe their eyes or assume that the minions were playing a practical joke. Q frowned, “Apparently Comic-Con.”

They spent the next couple of minutes gawking at strange photos of cosplayers dressed in spangled outfits. Bond groaned inwardly at the sight, hating the prospect of actually having to attend such a ridiculous event! Q, however, appeared to be genuinely intrigued (if not a little excited) by the idea!

“Come on 007,” he prompted, “It's not like we're going for the fun of it. We're going in order to catch a potentially dangerous terrorist. Who knows what they could do with the codes to our security system!”

Bond sighed, “Couldn't they think of anywhere else to exchange our trade secretes? I am not comfortable with this set up....”

“Just do your thing and I will do mine. You are a double-0 agent, are you not? You have seen some pretty terrible things during your career. As long as we lie low, I am pretty sure you will survive _this,_ ” Q rolled his eyes. This was why he hated – or perhaps just _disliked_ – field agents. They were happy to fling themselves in front of bullets for their country, but unable to accept attending silly events! How was that even logical?

Bond sighed, loosing the will to live. He wished he'd been sent on a more interesting mission. He quiet liked having the company however, “All right. As long as you don't expect me to dress up as Batman or anything... Have you got any more information?”

“Q-Branch promised they would contact me as soon as they have any more information. It's just a matter of waiting,” Q sighed. He hated being in the field already, and they hadn't even been in the US for more than 2 hours! He could have accomplished so much more back in England!

“I'll book our tickets and make sure there is nothing else we need... Maybe prove difficult though.”

“All right. While you do that, I am going to go and have a chat with our lovely receptionist about the local area.”

\----- 00Q ----- 

When Bond made his way downstairs, he noticed that the hotels receptionist was leaning against the marble desk and occupying herself with a good book. When the secret agent stepped out of the lift, however, she smiled and called him over without delay – evidentially longing for some company. Desk jobs must be so boring, he thought.

“How are you finding your room Mr. Holmes?” She asked politely, brushing her strawberry blonde curls behind her ears in an attempt to look professional, “I do hope it is to your liking.”

“It is wonderful, thank you. Just what we were looking for,” Bond lied, remembering the pretence he was forced to continue. Q had a point; he should have denied everything from the very beginning. It was too late now though, he supposed...

The receptionist – Scarlett, (according to her name tag) – grinned widely, “I am glad to hear it. So, when did the two of you marry? If you don't mind my asking...”

Bond smiled, hoping to look as genuine as possible, “We were wed yesterday. I didn't want to rush into a honeymoon, but he insisted that it was tradition...”

“Oh it is!” Scarlett exclaimed, as if she was an expert on weddings, “I used to dream of meeting my own prince charming, having a big, white wedding and the whole shabam,” she started off into the distance longingly for a while before continuing with, “Why did you choose to come here for your honeymoon? You could have gone somewhere warm and romantic!”

“We are happy here in San Diego. Q has always dreamt of visiting this city and there's so much he wants to see... Speaking of which, I don't suppose you know anything about Comic-Con do you?”

At first, Bond didn't realise that he had just referred to his apparent “husband” as a single letter from the alphabet! Luckily Scarlett didn't seem to notice. Either that or she had just chosen not to question the matter. She probably just assumed it was a cute nickname or something. Which it was... A nickname! Not a cute one!

“Of course! Is that where the two of you are going? It's pretty sweet how much you care about your husband.”

“Yes. I don't suppose you could you provide me with some information about it? I am not so knowledgeable you see and it's supposed to be a surprise.”

\----- 00Q ----- 

“Local area? Yeah right. That's just code for flirting,” Q murmured to himself, when he heard the door shut behind Bond.

Once he had successfully booked two tickets to Comic-Con NY, Q attempted to begin a video call with someone (anyone) from Q-Branch. He knew it as late back in England, but when you work for the MI6 you soon learn that sleep is a luxury and he wanted to check up on their progress. Unfortunately, the call was not answered by a wide-eyed intern as expected. Rather, Q found himself face-to-face with someone he really wasn't in the mood to talk too...

“Moneypenny, why are you in Q-Branch at such an ungodly hour?”

“Hello to you too, Q. I was just popping down to see if anyone had heard from either of you. Everyone's pretty busy though, so I figured I may as well answer your call and find out for myself,” Eve smiled.

Q frowned distastefully, “Can you put someone else on for me? Someone who actually knows what they are doing preferably.”

“What's that supposed to mean? I mean no harm Hun, I only wanted to check in on you and 007.”

“You booked us the bloody honeymoon suite Eve!” he exclaimed loudly, causing a large majority of Q-Branch to turn and face his computer screen in shock. Q didn’t mean to be so rude, but he was feeling quiet sour. He then continued quieter, “How could you have been so careless? Now the frigging receptionist and god knows who else things that we are _married!”_

Eve chewed on her lower lip, trying to suppressing her amusement, “Calm down Q darling. I thought you would have appreciated my kind gesture. Honeymoon suites are always amazing.”

“Kind gesture? We only have one bed between us!” Q could feel his cheeks heating up as he yelled at Eve through a computer – asit was definitely not the thought of sharing a bed with the double-0 agent that was causing blood to rush to his face!

There was a moment of silence where Moneypenny stared at the screen in front of her, as if she was trying to read Q's expression. Suddenly her mouth formed an almost perfect circle and a strangled squeak escaped her throat, “So I was wrong about you two then?”

Q frowned harder than before, “What do you mean?”

Eve's features suddenly turned bright red, as she buried her head in her hands in embarrassment, “I really was wrong wasn't I?” she mumbled, more to herself than to Q.

“Wrong about what?” Q exclaimed, getting even more irritated.

“Well it's just,” she stammered, “I thought you and Bond were...”

“Were what?”

“Together.”

Q’s eyes went as large as they physically could, as Eve’s words slowly sunk in. She had assumed that he and 007 were together? Like _together,_ together? And she had ordered them a nice big hotel room for what? Extra-curricular activities? Q was speechless. He was so shocked that didn’t know what to say, “What on God's Earth gave you that idea?! You of all people should be aware of 007's... Reputation.”

“Well, Bond hasn't been very _flirty_ recently,” Eve mused, unable to keep eye contact with the Quartermaster all of a sudden.

“Oh well that explains everything. Bond's not been flirting with you; he and I are totally shagging each other!” Q rolled his eyes and sighed, “Seriously, Moneypenny...”

She rubbed the back of her neck nervously and glanced around – ensuring that no one was eavesdropping on their conversation – before replying in a lower tone of voice, “Come on. I have seen the way you look at each other: like there is no one else in the room. And how Bond treats you like no one else…”

Q felt his heart sink, “Don't be ridiculous. Bond is like every other double-0 agent: he only ever socialises with me when he has a mission or needs equipment, which for the record, is never returned intact!”

“Oh Q --” Eve was cut off, when one of the Q-Branch interns tapped her on the shoulder and motioned for her to move away from the laptop. She smiled apologetically at Q and blew him a kiss before dashing off screen, only to be replaced by a young man who had some information to share with the head of his department about their case...

As Q listened to his minion, he couldn't help but wonder what Eve was about to say. How had she come to such an outrageous conclusion? Not that it was horrific or anything! Q would never admit it, but he considered Bond to be extremely good looking. Unfortunately, however, his condescending attitude managed to outweigh his charming good looks…

\----- 00Q -----

When Bond finally returned to their room, after a rather insightful chat with the hotels receptionist, he found Q fast asleep where he had left him. He looked so peaceful, sat at his laptop with his head buried in his arms. Bond considered leaving him where he was, in fear of waking him, but he doubted that keyboards make the best pillows and he didn't want him to catch cold.“Q,” he said quietly, brushing his hand over the Quartermaster's hair.

“Piss off 007,” came the muffled reply of a very sleepy man. There was a short pause, before he raised his head and squinted into the light, “It's 2 o'clock in the bloody morning back in England. My body clock doesn't adjust that quickly.”

“Come on,” Bond said, attempting to lift Q away from his portable version of Q-branch, “You should be in bed.”

With the agents assistance, Q soon found himself landing face first on the suites oversized bed. After removing his shoes, jacket and glasses, he cocooned himself in the various duvets and blankets and almost instantly drifted back into sleep. Bond smiled and gently tucked Q in a little tighter, before moving away towards their hot drinks machine.

After pouring himself a steaming hot mug of coffee, Bond began to turn off all of Q's equipment for him. He was almost done, when suddenly the laptop made a strange sound. Upon inspection Bond noticed that the sleeping Quartermaster had received an instant message from Moneypenny and – assuming that it was related to their current mission – decided to open it.

 **Eve:** Hey Q. Sorry about earlier. xx

 **Q:** Moneypenny. I am afraid sleeping beauty is catching up on his sleep. As, I am sure, you should be.

 **Eve:** 007?

 **Q:** No, it's the butler.

 **Eve:** Very funny. And, I can't sleep. It's hectic around here and I have a lot of paperwork to file. What's your excuse?

 **Q:** I'm not tired. Besides, I rarely ever get jet lag...

 **Eve:** Lucky for some. How did Q find the flight?

 **Q:** He slept though most of it. Which I may, or may not have had something to do with.

 **Eve:** Did you do what I think you did?

 **Q:** Well that depends on what you think I did, doesn't it?

 **Eve:** I am going to take that as a yes... Does he know?

 **Q:** No. And I am not going to tell him!

 **Eve:** Be careful, James. He's special. I don't want to see him get hurt... Anyway, I am going to log off now. I need to finish my work before I fall asleep at my desk. Goodnight 007. :) xx

Bond frowned at the chat box and then looked back at the mop of hair popping out from underneath the sheets. If Eve was worried for Q's welfare, then she was wasting her energy. If there was one thing the MI6 agent was certain of, it was that he would never let anything happen to him...

Once he had finally downed his coffee and shut down all of Q's power draining technology, he considered getting some sleep too. After all, there wasn't much more he could do tonight. It may have only been approximately 6:30 PM in San Diego, but it had been a pretty long day. Plus, Q was right about the UK being 8 hours in front...

His stomach growled quietly, but he didn't feel like eating. He didn't feel like doing very much, in all honesty and without really thinking about, he quickly kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed besides Q. The bed was large enough to hold an average family of 4 quiet comfortably, yet he found himself snuggling up close to Q's warmth. For some reason, it felt right and his eyelids soon became heavy as he drifted off into a long, peaceful sleep.

\----- 00Q -----

Q woke as soon as light began streaming though the curtains. He felt so well rested after having managed to sleep through then entire night! Which was weird, considering the fact that he had also slept though a 7 hour flight...

His eyes slowly fluttered open and he smiled dreamily at the sight of 007 sleeping next to him. Wait... Bond was sleeping next to him!

“WHAT?!” he jumped up and pulled the sheets around his lower half in an attempt to hide his morning wood. Why was 007 in bed with him? Not that Q was expecting him to kip on the sofa or anything, (okay, so maybe he was), but the bed was big enough for him to stay out of Q's personal space at least!

 

Bond yawned and grinned up at Q, “Good morning sunshine.”

“Bond, what are you doing?”

“Well. Before you woke me up, I was sleeping.”

“I mean... Why are you _there?_ ”

Bond frowned and pouted innocently, “Why am I sleeping in the only bed we have?”

“No... You know what, never mind,” Q rubbed his forehead and brushed his hair out of his face, before sighing, “I am going to take a shower, then we can figure out today's plan of action...”

Bond nodded and watched Q climb out of bed and rush straight towards the bathroom – locking the door behind him. Upon entering, he was awestruck. It was almost as big as their entire hotel room! A large luxury shower clung to one wall, along with a huge white bath, a basin and of course the toilet. Everything looked so big and expensive. It made Q's bathroom back in the UK look like it belonged in a third-world country! It was ridiculous!

Grabbing his wash bag, Q locked himself in the shower and stood perfectly still as the warm water ran down his body. It felt amazing and practically washed all of his fears away in an instant. While he was safe inside the cubicle, he didn't have to worry about anything! Especially not 007... _God damn it Q! Why must you always think about that bloody obnoxious double-0 agent?_

The past couple of days had been pretty weird. If having to go out into the field wasn't bad enough, Q found himself stuck with one of the most irritating agents in MI6! He was adamant that Bond had made it his personal mission to make his life a living hell. He usually only had to deal with the double-0 during missions, however he had recently started showing up at Q-Branch between missions for absolutely no reason at all! He just hovers around like a wasp and then vanishes into thin air!

So what was it about James Bond that Q hadn't been able to get out of his head? He'd practically been there since they met. Since their fingers first brushed. During that first meeting, Q legitimately thought of 007 as a real-life zombie – back from the dead to eat the brains of people who proved to be a threat to the nation and it's security. However, although he looked like death itself, there was something strangely attractive about his appearance. Then, after _that_ tragic mission (that was rightly codenamed “Skyfall”) he soon began to perk up and appeared far more vibrant than ever. For the first time, Q actually thought he was quiet handsome!

All of this had inevitably lead up to many inappropriate thoughts and dreams involving the double-0 in many compromising scenarios.

\----- 00Q -----

Eventually he re-emerged from the bathroom squeak clean, fully dressed and ready to face whatever San Diego had to throw at him! He was feeling optimistic, which was a good thing because there was so much that needed to be done!

Bond, on the other hand, looked like he hadn't moved an inch since Q left! Didn't he have agent-y things to be doing or something?

Eventually he jumped out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom, (which was obviously what he had been waiting for), but didn't head straight in. Instead, he halted in front of Q and stared at the odd little droplets that were rolling out of his hair. He reached out and ran his index finger across one of Q's perfectly formed cheek bones, trying to catch all of the little beads that slid down his face and threatened to jump once they reached his jawline.

Q frowned. Was he still asleep? Surely he must have been in the middle of some kind of erotic dream of some sort, because events such as these don't happen in reality.

Bond's fingers felt so soft as they brushed against his skin and he was so close...

Calmly and as if nothing had happened, Bond returned his hand to himself and moved past the Quartermaster. He continued towards the bathroom and locked the door behind him, leaving Q all alone with his rapidly beating heart.

What on Earth had just happened? He was at it again – doing inexplicable things for absolutely no apparent reason! Taking a deep breath, Q brushed it off as one of Bonds weird quirky moments and quickly pulled himself back together. He really wished he understood the actions of the famous 007 sometimes, but did _anyone_ ever understand why he did the things he did?

Without much thought, he seated himself opposite his computer and booted it up. There was so much that needed to be done and standing there pondering Bond's actions wouldn't catch a (possibly lethal) hacker!

As soon as he logged on, a past conversation with Eve flashed up on-screen which was puzzling; the chats time stamp claimed that they had spoken late last night, long after he had gone to bed! Adamant that he hadn't been conversing with secretaries in his sleep, (he didn't really go in for that sort of thing) Q decided to read through the conversation...

\----- 00Q ---- 

When Bond returned from the shower, clean-shaven and wearing a fresh suit, he found Q waiting for him on the armchair. He wasn't expecting anything less, to be honest. Was he waiting for some sort of explanation?

To the double-0 agents surprise, the only words that left Q's mouth were: “What don't I know?”

He watched Bond's eyebrows knit together in confusion as he attempted to search for the answers to life the universe and everything in his expression – or perhaps he was just trying to find the meaning behind his sudden question. After a quick glance towards the open laptop, he wondered if Q had read the conversation he had with Miss Moneypenny last night? If that was the case, what had he said to warrant such an interrogation? “Pardon?”

“I never slept for seven hours on the plane naturally, did I?”

Oh. So that's where this was going, “Q--”

“Did you drug me 007?”

“Yes,” Bond answered with a hint of authority in his voice.

“Oh God. It was in the tea, wasn't it? Who gave you the right to slip strange substances into my system without my permission, Bond?!”

“Well you would hardly have given your consent! Evidentially,” he gestured to their current situation “And anyway, I didn't mean any harm. You were in a terrible state yesterday. I was only trying to make the journey easier for you.” he replied calmly. What else was he supposed to say? Sorry for trying to help?

“You could have just left me 007,” Q sighed.

He understood that the agent was only trying to be helpful, but there were other ways of assisting! Drugs were just the easy option and Bond had misused them to keep Q quiet, so that he didn't have to deal with his issues. That's what hurt the most, but Q was too fed up and agitated to argue. He knew there was nothing to be done about it now, and fighting wouldn't get him back to his safe-haven in London, “Well, that explains why my tea tasted bloody awful. And how I was able to sleep for such a long period of time! Drugs and jet-lag: who knew they would combine to create the perfect sleeping draft? I should consider reusing it...”

Bond raised his eyebrows as Q began to babble. He knew the younger man pretty well by now, and figured that the fact that he couldn't bothered to argue with him kind of emphasised how irritated he actually was. He felt slightly guilty, but he didn't regret his actions. He hadn't done anything wrong! Or so he thought...

Uncomfortable silence weaved between the pair, and hung around like the spirit of a dead man. If there were any unwanted third parties lingering around however, it would likely feel as if they had just walked in on a lovers quarrel or something. Not that it was of course! Definitely not!

“So, where are we on this case? Were you able to book our silly tickets and find out any more information?”

“Oh yes! I have a blurred photograph of our _dear friend_ , the messenger” Q quickly grabbed his laptop and loaded up a document – eager to assist the subject change and rid themselves of that ghostly silence. On the glossy display was a blown up security photo of a mysterious hooded figure. It could have been a good piece of evidence, but it was to was too pixelated to pick out any helpful details or relevant information...

“Can you enhance that?”

“Of course I can,” Q responded as if Bond had just asked the stupidest question known to mankind. Which, let's be honest, he had. Q wasn't head of the information and tech department at MI6 for no good reason. After effortlessly tapping a few buttons, he almost instantly turned the blurred and grainy image into what looked like a professional black and white photograph! “I will seriously need to evaluate my interns, if they can't even render a photograph.”

At this point, it became very obvious that the picture featured a mature adult male dressed in a dark hooded jacket. He appeared to be desperately trying to hide his face from the security camera that inevitably captured his photograph, and upon closer inspection it looked like he was stuffing something into his pocket. Q and Bond must have noticed the same thing, because he suddenly zoomed in on the man's hand in a poor attempt to identify what he was hiding. It looked like he was holding a plastic case of some sort, on which the letters S and J were written quiet clearly. It wasn't very much to go off, but the photo could still prove to be very useful!

"Could you send me a copy of that?"

"Certainly. I am not sure why I was sent it though, so be careful. The minions told me that they suspect this man was give our security codes before we were able to capture the traitor working on the inside, but they have kept me in the dark other-wise...”

“You'll have to get used to that I am afraid. Life as a field agent is pretty much lived in the dark. Think of all the times I have captured criminals with nothing but your word to go on...”

Q didn't feel very reassured, but he was understanding. Field agents are only ever told relevant information – safety precautions and what not. He just wasn't used to being treated like any other agent and enjoyed knowing every little detail pertaining to a case. Still, he he quickly sent the photo across to Bonds current mobile device and attempted to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. He had other things to worry about, like comic con for example...

"By the way, you can't go out like that," Q commented, looking up from his laptop.

Bond frowned and looked down at his attire in an attempt to fathom out what was wrong with it. He was dressed in his favourite grey suit, with a white shirt and a black tie – nothing unusual. However, when he glanced back at at Q for an answer, he noticed that he wasn't dressed in his usual outfit. How had he missed that? Instead, he wore a pair of black skinny jeans, some converses and a white t-shirt with a faded Captain America shield printed on. The only thing that hadn't changed was his love for knit-wear, as he was also wearing a dark blue cardigan. He already looked way to young to be the head of Q-Branch, but now he just looked like a geeky teenager.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"007, you cannot go to Comic-Con dressed like a business man of some sort. How is that going to help us blend in? Maybe if we just..." he trailed off, hovered towards Bond and stepped into his personal space. Intent on dressing the agent appropriately, he began to unfasten his tie and abruptly discarded the article of clothing by tossing it aside. His fingers then began to fumble with the top button of Bond's shirt, in an attempt to downgrade his appearance.

Suddenly and without warning, Bond leant in and closed the gap between them – gently pressing their lips together and placing a warm palm on Q's cheek. The kiss was soft and sweet and everything you wouldn't expect from a man who kills for a living. Q's heart rate increased and he melted into the agents arms, still gripping his collar.

When Bond tried to deepen the kiss, Q's brain regained some of it's ability to function and he abruptly pulled away. With a pale flush, he covered his burning mouth with his hand and tried to speak normally, "Erm. Loose the jacket. And find a decent coat that doesn't make you look like an FBI agent."

Bond sighed and scuttled off into the bathroom once again. What was going on with the double-0 agent that morning? Everyone knew what he was like. Q had heard more than his fair share gossip at Q-Branch, when his minions were chattering away like a bunch of Shreddie knitting grannies, but why was he suddenly coming onto _him_? Was it all part of some elaborate plan to drive him mentally insane or something?

 _Pull yourself together Q_ , he yelled at himself!

When Bond re-emerged, he was modelling a black leather jacket as requested. He still didn't look 100% inconspicuous, but Q believed that he had done a pretty good job in fixing the field agents appearance.

“That's a lot better,” he smiled, not letting what had just happened effect his ability to do his job. However, he doubted he would ever be able to forget the feeling of Bond's mouth on his...

“Before we do anything, let's grab some breakfast from somewhere.”

\----- 00Q ---- 

“I've got some equipment for you,” Q said over a cup of freshly brewed tea and bacon bagel.

Bond raised his eyebrows, “I'm sure you have.”

Q's eyes widened, as he tried to stop himself from spitting out his drink in a rather ungentlemanly fashion. Why did Bond have to turn everything into an innuendo? He placed his cup back onto it's saucer and made eye contact with 007 for the first time since that morning. Although Q was finding it impossible to maintain visual contact, the double-0 agent clearly had no issue as he hadn't stopped staring at him since they sat down!

“Yes,” he said slowly, pulling a black case out from underneath his chair and pushing it towards him, “I bought a few things with me that I thought might prove to be useful.”

Bond opened the case carefully, trying to make sure that no one else saw what it contained. The last thing he wanted to do was cause unnecessary panic. Inside was a small hand gun, a pair of handcuffs and a strange small square item. He eyed it curiously, unable fathom out what it was, “What is this?”

“Have you never seen handcuffs before?” Q teased, unable to stop himself and pushed all inappropriate thoughts to the back of his head. His mind had been going to the gutter way more than usual all of a sudden!

“Not _them,”_ Bond pointed towards the mysterious cuboid, “ _This._ ”

Q smiled, completely aware of what he had been referring to, “That's a pocket-taser. Latest edition at Q-Branch. It's small, but deadly. One quick zap at close range will render a victim paralysed for a good 15 minutes. However, it only works once so only use it if it's really necessary.”

“Let me guess, it's one of your inventions? Why couldn't I just had a _normal_ taser?” Bond questioned.

“Of course. And, where we are going will be extremely crowded, so you don't want to be packing too much bulky equipment. Be thankful I didn't give you the mini Q-pistol too,” he prided himself in having created and named a miniature gun after himself – even though it would probably be given a standardised name at some point, involving an annoying amount of letters and numbers.

“Hopefully I won't need to use anything...”

\----- 00Q -----

Comic-Con was huge and turned out to be everything the pair were expecting. Well, it was everything Q was expecting it to be. Bond on the other hand didn't really seem to care either way – he was more focused on the mission, rather than the setting.

The entire venue was huge! At first it didn't look all that extravagant, but on the inside it seemed to contain a space much larger than it's four walls could possibly hold!

For such a large space, there was an unsurprising amount of space to move around. Masses of people pushed past each other excitedly and soon found themselves lost in the crowds. One of the main causes of congestion were market stalls that sat side-by-side selling various merchandise!

“You actually like it here, don't you?” Bond asked, noticing the mesmerised look on Q's face as they tried to squeeze through the crowd of people.

Q glanced at Bond over his glasses and shrugged. He felt a little ridiculous, but it was true. He hadn't necessarily ever considered visiting Comic Con, but he couldn't deny the nostalgic feeling it gave him. He still owned a few comic books and action figures from his childhood, “Did you not read _any_ comic books as a kid, or were you _that_ deprived?”

Bond pouted mockingly and pretended to be offended, “I may have read a few as a boy.”

Q laughed, “I bet you had a secret desire to become Captain America when you grew up.”

“I suppose my wish came true then,” Bond chuckled and there was a moments pause, “There were times when I needed to escape from reality and for a while and all I had were comics to turn to...”

Q didn't know how to respond. He thought he knew almost everything there was to know about the double-0 agent, yet so much of his life was kept under lock and key – especially his childhood. Now Q was being given an insight into one of his secret escapes. He felt honoured and uncomfortable at the same time – like he had just learnt a dirty secret and didn't know what to do with it.

“Oh God, hide!” Bond said suddenly, grabbing Q by the hand and pulling him into a large group of people.

“Wha- Woah!” Q cried as he was hauled away from the stalls. What was going on? Had he just seen the guy they were looking for?

“It's Scarlett.”

Q's frowned. He was about to ask who _Scarlett_ was, when the receptionist from their hotel suddenly appeared out of nowhere. It took a while for Q to put a name to her face, but he soon figured it out with the help of Bond's expression, “Hey you two!”

“Scarlett! Fancy seeing you here! I suppose this explains how and why you knew so much about this place.”

“Did I not tell you that I was coming here today too? Opps. Sorry, must have slipped my mind,” she giggled, flipping her strawberry blonde curls over her shoulders and chewing her bottom lip apologetically. Q couldn't help but wonder if her cute, childish personality was just an act or whether she was always like that, “How are you liking it here Mr. Holmes? I hear you have always wanted to come to Comic Con in San Diego.”

Confused, Q looked to Bond for answers. What had he said last night that had involved him and their ' _relationship'_? Suddenly, he felt a little self conscious and could only hope that 007 hadn't said anything embarrassing, “It's amazing. Double- Erm. _James_ is the best.”

“Aw. Don't suppose you've got a twin have you?” she teased Bond, clearly moved by the pair's act.

“Afraid not my dear. I'm the one and only,” he smiled.

“Ah, worth a try. Anyway, believe it or not I don't want to get in the way of your day out together! I'm actually meeting a guy if he decides to show up. I don't want to be stood up as usual. Hope he's a real catch, otherwise you will have competition cutie!” she winked at Q.

“Have fun!” Q waved, thankful for her immediate absence. She was kind and sweet, but also a little strange. She acted like a crazy fan-girl of some sort and he really didn't know how much longer he could have put up with her. Not to mention the fact that as long as she was around, he had to pretend to be 007's loving husband!

As soon as Scarlett was out of sight, Q reached into Bonds pockets and pulled out his mobile phone. Sliding his fingers across the touch screen, he worked his magic and loaded the enhanced security photo. He was beginning to feel anxious all of a sudden.

One-by-one, he began to mentally discard civilians who didn't look like the figure in the security photo. By paying attention to all of his surroundings he attempted to locate their suspect and narrow down the list of suspects.

A man matching their suspects profile suddenly walked past Q's vision. He did a quick double take to make sure it wasn't a lookalike, before gently nudging Bond in the ribs and nodding towards their target's location, “I think that's him.”

Bond looked down at the photo in Q's hands and back up at the man he was referring to. He certainly looked similar to the guy in the picture – still modelling a black hooded jacket – which seemed like a good enough reason to take action. He was about to make a move, when a set of bony fingers suddenly gripped his arm, “Wait. He's likely here to trade our secrets remember! That would involve another criminal party. If we take him down now then we will never know who else is to be held accountable for what's happened.”

007 kept his eyes locked on their perpetrator, but backed down reluctantly. He was accustomed to jumping into action without giving the consequences very much thought, but Q was being responsible and wasn't about to let the agent make a huge mistake that could compromise their case. After all, that was why he was there, wasn't it? To babysit a grown man.

They stuck to the crowds and watched their suspect with beady eyes, but nothing seemed to happen. He glanced around nervously and frequently glanced at his watch, making it blatantly obvious that he was waiting for someone. Even his body language gave his motive away, as droplets of sweat began to form on his forehead and he bounced up and down impatiently.

When it seemed safe to approach, the two spies began to slowly pace forward. Unfortunately for them, they weren't as discrete as they wanted to be and the hooded figure snapped his head in their direction as soon as he suspected that someone was watching him. Q jolted in shock and tried to come up with a plan to hide their intentions.

He tried to tug Bond away, but as soon as he pulled on the agents sleeve he found himself being unexpectedly reeled into the his chest. Before he could protest the Bond's lips came crashing down on his. His eyes widened and he tried to use them to communicate with Bond, but the agent wasn't looking at him – instead he was looking around to check up on their suspect.

When the man was no longer interested in their actions, Bond pulled away, leaving Q breathless. He thought he was about to be suffocated by the agents lips (which should have been a bad thing, but suddenly all the Quartermaster could think about was how he wouldn't mind being killed by Bond if that was how he did it).

Without a word, Bond grabbed Q's wrist and directed him towards a stall selling an assortment of badges. He pretended to be interested in the small circular objects, poking and prodding a couple with Doctor Who quotes on, before looking over his shoulder. Q didn't want their cover to be almost broken again so he just admired a button with the word “ASSBUTT!” written in huge, black writing.

Moments later, 007 tapped Q's hand and used his head to point towards the man they had been spying on for the past God knows how long. The man in question was shaking hands with a mysterious figure and discussing, what one could only assume was, a business proposition. Q squinted, trying to get a good look at the second party, but the hooded figure was blocking his view. You could just about see their arms moving, making their initial suspect look like a human octopus.

“Is it just me, or does that look like...” Bond trailed of as the other figure moved into their line of sight.

Q's mouth hung open and he couldn't prevent his spontaneous outburst, “Scarlett?"

Scarlett's eyes flickered towards Q and she lit up like a Christmas tree. Beaming, she hooked arms with the hooded figure and stepped forward, “Hey cutie-pie! You just can't stay away huh?”

Q raised his eyebrows and looked between their two suspects. Was he really seeing this? How could Scarlett – their cute little representation – be a terrorist? It just didn't fit! Perhaps their was some misunderstanding? Although, that didn't seem to be the case...

Appearances really are deceptive...

Bond stared at Q, evidently not amused by his thoughtless eruption and stepped up to save their cover and simultaneously do his job. Smiling that charming smile that made the heart of every living creature turn to goo, he stepped forward and slid behind her, causing her smile to finally falter, “What are you--?!”

The agent grabbed her wrists and held them together tightly. She struggled and tried to fight, but everything was happening too quickly for her to comprehend. The sound of metal could be heard behind her and within seconds the man she knew to be Mr. Holmes, had locked her securely in a pair of handcuffs!

“What are you doing?” she exclaimed.

“I could ask you the same question. What was you agenda here today?” he demanded sternly.

Scarlett pursed her lips and shook her hair off her shoulders, “I am a fan of comics.”

“Cut the crap Scarlett, we know you aren't here to satisfy your raging obsession with all things fictional,” Q interrupted, still trying to catch himself up on everything.

“Oh, and you really expect me to believe that you and Prince Charming here are on a romantic honeymoon? If it wasn't for the fact that you totally look like your screwing each other, then I wouldn't even believe you were _together_!”

Q was about to deny any and all romantic attachments to _James Bond_ , but didn't get the oppertunity, “We're with MI6. The organisation you are trying to steal security codes from, or had that slipped your mind?”

Scarlett glanced around and saw her window of opportunity. She punched her hooded accomplice in the stomach, dodged the two British agents and dashed away from the scene. Q tripped over his feet in an attempt to grab her, but that wasn't enough to stop him from trying again! Within seconds the pair were disappearing into the crowds and sliding underneath stalls like stunt doubles in some action blockbuster movie!

007 wanted to help and sincerely wished he was the one chasing down their criminal, but it didn't take two people to chase down a handcuffed suspect who ran like a penguin. Somehow he knew Q could handle himself. He was stronger than he looked. He hoped/

The other, unamed, terrorist tried to crawl away – thinking that he had been forgotten about – but his plans were deemed unsuccessful when Bond pushed his foot down on his back, “Don't even think about it.”

\----- 00Q -----

When Q returned, two security guards were gripping Scarlett's arms and hauling her fighting body forward. Even now, when her defeat was obvious, she refused to give up, “I will succeed!” she screamed repetitively.

Q and Bond ignored her threats and smiled at each other. Their suspect had been caught and no one had been hurt in the process. It was a mission success as far as they were concerned; especially Q, who was proud to be able to report that Bond hadn't _killed anyone!_ Perhaps him babysitting had been a brilliant idea after all. Okay, so maybe he wouldn't quite go that far... But still.

“What will happen now?” he questioned, not certain what the usual procedure was out in the field.

“She will be held in a suitable cell overnight and we shall take her back to England first thing tomorrow morning,” Bond mused, “For now, I do believe there are quiet a few things here left to see.”

The Quartermaster's eyebrows kitted together, “Shouldn't we just head back now? As lovely as it is here, our mission is over now.”

007's lips pulled into a lopsided smile and for once he couldn't help feeling amused by Q's 'all work and no play' personality, “I think we still have some unfinished business.”

\----- 00Q ----- 

Bond and Q caught the first cab they saw and instructed the driver to take them back to the hotel they had slept at overnight. It was a shock to discover that the businesses receptionist was in fact the criminal who was prepared to betray the UK, but at least it made her easier to catch in the end...

When questioned as to why they needed to return to the hotel, (besides to collect their belongings), Bond was somewhat vague, replying only with, “You'll see.”

Q was used to the agent being pretty secretive, but that was just plain strange. Still, he decided not to question the matter and just go with it. It was no use asking about things that would soon become clear, because it just used up energy and Q needed his brain to stay clear for important matters.

“Get changed into something classy,” Bond ordered – no _requested_ – as soon they stepped into their suite.

“Why?” Q asked, pulling down the hem of his t-shirt so he could get a better view of it's front. Had he spilt ketchup or tea down himself this morning and not realised? Nope, that certainly wasn't the issue. Then what was? Was Q not “ _classy”_ enough, now that their case was almost over?

“Because,” Bond replied slowly, “I am hungry. The restaurant downstairs looks nice and I thought we could go to dinner, seeing as we never got to eat last night.”

“Smooth,” Q murmured, hovering towards the Queen-sized bed to locate his suitcase. He pulled out a pair of grey dress trousers, a clean shirt and a tie and moved towards the bathroom to get changed. Unlike the double-0 agent, Q didn't keep a collection of clean-cut suits hanging around, so the smartest he could manage was pretty much just what he wore to work everyday.

“You can get dressed in here you know. We are both men,” Bond commented, catching Q in his tracks. The younger man's eyes widened and he spontaneously made an attempt to cover up his chest, as if he had suddenly found himself naked. This gesture didn't go unnoticed, “Are you... Self-conscious?”

“It's really none of your bloody business, 007,” Q responded defensively and hastily reached out for the bathroom door handle.

Bond quickly stepped in behind him and laid a hand on his wrist, causing him to freeze one again. When he didn't make an attempt to move, the agent slipped his other hand beneath Q's shirt and ran his fingers across the milky skin beneath. He had never realised exactly how skinny the Head of Q-Branch was until this point; he could practically count each one of his ribs, “Do you actually eat?”

Q turned to face the older man and suddenly the sound of flesh colliding with flesh dominated every other sound in the room, as he slapped Bond square on the cheek, “You bastard, I am not some fragile object that needs your protection,” he said evenly, “Now look here, if you want to make a move on me could you get on with it? You have been teasing me all day and it's getting quite annoying.”

Bond frowned briefly, before his lips pulled up into a devilish grin, “Oh. I didn't realise you wanted me so badly.”

“Oh don't flatter yourself,” Q rolled his eyes and then jumped back slightly when Bond continued exploring his chest. He hadn't even realised that his hand was still under his top! Before he knew it their lips were locked again for the _second_ time that day; only this time it felt different. There was more need. More desperation.

Q moaned against Bond's mouth as he was pushed backwards against the bathroom door. He desperately clung onto him as their bodies moved against each other rhythmically, and their tongues battled for dominance.

Refusing to break their heated kiss, Bond attempted to manoeuvre the younger man towards their massive bed. It proved to be a difficult feat and Q ended up falling backwards clumsily. He landed on the soft sheets and pulled Bond down with him in the process. An awkward, dorky grin played on his face before Bond leant down to capture his lips between his own once again.

Q moaned disappointedly when Bond finally broke away and began to gently peck at his jawline, slowly moving down towards his neck. He bit down on his lower lip and tilted his head backwards to grant to agent access. Bond gently mouthed at his skin for a brief moment before pulling back to admire his head of research and development.

When Bond made an attempt to remove his t-shirt, Q squirmed nervously and tried to pull it down as far as possible. The agent briefly kissed his Quartermaster again and breathed against his lips, “You're beautiful.”

Hesitantly, Q loosened his grip and sat upright; allowing the double-0 to gently slide the fabric over his head. Was it possible to feel so vulnerable and yet perfectly safe at the same time? Bond wrapped his arms around Q and whispered words of comfort into his ear before kissing, licking and gently mouthing his ear lobe.

Q practically pulled himself onto Bond's lap – scrambling as close to the other man as possible, as he began to lower his mouth down his neck and towards his chest. Pushing Q back down against the bed, Bond began grazing his collar bone and worked his way down to his right nipple. As soon as his mouth latched onto the small exposed pink body part, Q let out a cry of pleasure, which encouraged Bond to continue. He experimentally bit down on the flesh, earning more cries. He then grabbed the neglected nipple and began to fondle it affectionately.

“James,” he moaned, running his fingers though the other man's blonde hair.

Eventually, Bond stopped abusing Q's nipples and kissed his way down his chest; getting lower and lower until he had no where else to go. He repositioned himself between Q's legs and effortlessly worked his trousers off.

“Mmh, wait! If you're going to go any further then I demand you at least match me in attire,” Q commented, feeling slightly uncomfortable knowing that he was the only one loosing articles of clothing. He reached up to unbutton and remove Bond's dress shirt so they were even – but was distracted by what he saw...

Of course the dangerously charming double-0 agent had scars! Q _knew_ he had numerous scars; he had just never realised exactly how many. He may not have had hundreds marking his flesh, but he had enough! Especially when each scar linked to a – possibly serious – injury that Q didn't want to think about. Bond put himself in harms way too often.

Suddenly, Q felt less insecure about his own body. Bond was leaning over him, willing to reveal so much about himself through them scars. He thoughtlessly reached out to run his fingers across one of the wounds on his left shoulder, knowing that each mark had it's own story, “Did they hurt?”

“Too. Bloody. Much,” Bond replied, kissing Q hard again, making him loose his train of thought.

He soon moved back to where he had been positioned before and admired the sight of Q's evident raging hard-on, pushing against the fabric of his boxers. Licking his lips, he began to plant kisses on the insides of Q's thighs and worked his way up toward his crotch. Q moaned out when he felt Bond palming him though his underpants.

“God. Jesus,” He felt like he was about to go over the edge already and Bond hadn't even done anything yet, except abuse his body with desperate kisses.

Q's eyes widened when Bond pulled down the elastic of his boxers and his cock was finally free. Bond smiled and stoked the pulsing length gently, earning more beautiful sounds from the Quartermaster. Q's eyes rolled back in his skull and he bucked forward, begging for more.

“Ah-unn,” he moaned, when Bond tightened his grip around him and began gently pumping him. It felt amazing and Q could feel himself rapidly loosing control. He gripped the bedsheets as hard as he could, as if gravity was about to take a vacation and it was all he could do to stop himself from flying away.

Everything was becoming hazy. All he knew was that he was lying naked beneath the most reputed member of MI6. He should feel so dirty, but he doesn't. Especially not when Bond is being so gentle, caressing Q's hips as he steadies him to prevent him from flying upwards while he sucks down on his cock and – wait, when did he begin using his mouth?

“Fu--hck, 007. Please,” Q moaned, finding it difficult to talk as the agent moaned against his member.

Q almost growled when Bond moved away from his lower half and began to kiss him on the lips again – a rough, eager kiss – before pulling some lube and a condom from somewhere and attempting to slick up his fingers.

Within no time the older man was gently sliding a finger inside Q's exposed hole. He wiggled it around for a while, trying to ensure that Q was used to the feeling, before adding a second and then a third digit. After a few fleeting moments and careful movements, he successfully located the spot that made Q loose all control and continued to stroke at it until Q was begging him for release.

Neither of them wanted it to end so soon though and with each second Bond was becoming more and more aware of the painful hard-on in his pants. With his free hand he began to unzip his trousers and pull out his cock, “Q... Would it be okay okay if I-?”

Was he fucking serious? Was the notorious 007 asking for _permission?_ Tomorrow, Q would feel a little guilty for constantly calling him was a massive slut behind his back, but right now all he could do was let out an impatient, “Yes.”

With that, the agent speedily put on his condom and lined himself up with Q. When the foreign object slowly entered the Quartermaster, he inhaled an audible sharp breathe and gripped the sheets tightly. Bond bit his lower lip in concern, “Are you okay?”

Q hummed in reply. It was painful, but not unbearable and they had already gone this far. Bond waited for the brunette to get used to the feel of him before pulling back experimentally and then pushing back in slowly. He repeated this a few times (speeding up with each thrust) until they fell into a steady rhythm that had Q crying out with pleasure.

The rapidly accelerating movements were driving Q insane and he knew that at this rate it wouldn't be long before he was finished. His cock was already dribbling when he took it between his hands and began pumping it in time with Bonds thrusts.

As they both became more and more desperate for release, their rhythm was discarded completely and 007 began to pound into Q frantically – giving him everything he had.

Suddenly everything went hazy and Q heard a loud “James” escape his swollen lips as warm liquid spurted across his stomach. Within seconds, Bond was following his climax and collapsing beside him. They lay like that for ages until their breathing had slowed and their heart-rate had returned to normal.

Once they had returned to a regular state, Bond abruptly got up and began cleaning them both up a little. The last thing either of them wanted was dried seamen everywhere, least of all spread across Q's stomach. The younger man barely noticed being wiped clean and tucked under the sheets.

Once Bond was satisfied with his miniature post-sex cleaning spree he slid under the sheets besides Q and pulled him into his arms. Q smiled up at his double-0 agent and blushed lightly as a small butterfly kiss was placed on his forehead.

“Now I understand your reputation,” Q half-joked, “Fuck, it looks like you really do managed to have sex no matter where you go.”

Bond rolled his eyes, “You're not exactly innocent right now are you? Besides, your the first person I have been with since I allegedly died.”

Q bit his lip, feeling a little guilty for his outburst, but also some what honoured to be the first person Bond had slept with in a long while. He didn't know how to respond. Of course he was happy, but he couldn't help but wonder how long it would last. Was it a one-time fling or something more?

Desperate to escape his thoughts, Q eagerly changed the subject to the only other thing he could think of, “So we got the security codes back... I really don't understand why any of it was done though.”

“Well, I am sure we will find out when we get back to England and interrogate the terrorists.”


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for akihia last November and forgot to add it here. Ops.

“Are you all right?” Bond asked, reaching across to encase Q’s hands in his own.   
  
“No,” Q deadpanned, “Do we really have to fly back with her.”  
  
It wasn’t that Q had a problem with flying back to London on a private jet with a known criminal – he had been around his fair share of terrorists since being recruited by MI6 – had a problem with flying. Full stop. This wasn’t something he was going to admit to in front of a prisoner, however. Despite recent events, he did have a little dignity.  
  
Bond smiled, remembering the first time he and Q had boarded a plane together, “Are you sure you don’t want a cup of of tea?”  
  
“This isn’t a joke James,” Q murmured, elbowing Bond in the ribs. The first time the agents had boarded a plane with him, he had been out of line and drugged his tea with an unknown substance that had knocked him out for hours.   
  
He had promised that he would never do such a thing again and appeared to sincerely regret his actions, but that would never excuse what he had done. Q was determined to ensure that Bond spent the rest of his life making up for his error – and he would, no doubt, be making up for many more mistakes in future.  
  
“I know. I am sorry,” Bond gave Q’s hand a gentle squeeze and smiled inwardly when he settled slightly.   
  
When the jet finally began to wave goodbye to the ground, Q squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the reality of what was happening. This isn’t real, he told him self, I am safe within the bunker of MI6 scolding 007 for returning a damaged ear piece again and not suspended 30,000 feet in the air.   
  
When they were no longer travelling diagonally, Q’s eyelids peeled back without his permission and he was forced to face the fact that he really was suspended 30,000 feet in the air. .   
  
Not wanting to accidentally glance out of the window – which, Q had made the logical decision to sit beside, stating that if he was next to the window he would have no reason to look in it’s direction – he turned to face Bond. This only made him feel more nervous however, as the agent looked at him with something that seemed to resemble concern.  
  
Q wanted to assure Bond that he was okay, but he couldn’t find the words to speak. His heart was preventing him from making any attempt to form a coherent sentence, as it lodged itself in his throat, trying to escape it’s rib-cage prison.  
  
Q was trying to come to terms with the fact that the night they had spent together had meant more to him than it had to Bond and that they would never have more than a professional relationship, however the agent wasn’t exactly making it easy for him. Subtle things, like the fact they were holding hands, left him in a state of contestant confusion.   
  
You’re just another foolish sheep, that was lured into the wolf’s bed, he reasoned.  
  
“Would you two get a  room,” a voice sounded from across the jet, “Are you about to shoot a porno? Stop making heart-eyes in front of the rest us. How are they even allowed to work together?”  
  
“Be quiet,” the prisoner’s guard ordered sternly.   
  
Q blushed and frowned at the girl sat opposite him, “Why is she on our jet? Shouldn’t she be on some sort of special plane that carries criminals?”  
  
“We hardly have enough funding to pay an entire plane to carry one prisoner Q and besides, I would rather keep my eyes on her, so that she doesn’t get the opportunity to elude us,” Bond commented.  
  
“You hardly have your eyes on m-!” Scarlett tried to spit out, before being elbowed in the ribs.  
  
Q stared at the floor. With Scarlett on board, he was in for a long flight…

 

\----- 00Q -----

 

Once they were back in England: Scarlett was taken to be interrogated, while Bond and Q were left to check in with M. Later they would have to file a mission report and sit through a tedious debrief, but until then they were free.

“Are all your missions quiet as strange as that one was?” Q asked, as they approached his division. It felt good to be in a familiar place once again.

Bond smirked, “By that do you mean: do they all end in great sex?”

Q’s eyes widened and he had to fight to hide his embarrassment, “I already know the answer to that, Mr. Bond.”

“Is that a yes?”

“No.”

“No? So it wasn’t great sex?” Q stopped walking and looked around in the hope that no one had heard the double-0 agent’s mindless banter, “Do I need to convince you otherwise?”

“Buy me dinner first agent,” Q shot back smugly.

“If you recall correctly, I tried to,” Bond folded his arms across his chest, “But how about I make reservations for tomorrow at 8?”


End file.
